


FE3H Fix-It

by phoenx



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: And some foreshadowing, Fix-It, Gen, I plan on doing a whole game overhaul but it'll take time, It's really canon compliant right now, Like dialogue and some character portrayal, Only a few things are changed, that's it that's the whole fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28901859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenx/pseuds/phoenx
Summary: This is a massive overhaul of FE3H—there's not going to be a whole lot of changes in the first half other than some characterization changes and additional plot. I plan to make this a series of works, each one being a different route. Once a house is chosen, things will start to change a little more.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	FE3H Fix-It

**Author's Note:**

> Level of violence is the same as in game, so don't worry too much about level of detail for violence. I use gender-neutral pronouns for Byleth but I may slip up sometimes and use masculine pronouns because I'm used to male Byleth.

Byleth awoke with a start, the voice of the girl still echoing in their mind. 

_ It is almost… time to begin… _

Time for  _ what _ ? Could it have anything to do with the war that he saw only moments prior? Byleth remembered feeling so close to the heat of battle, almost as if they were there themselves, watching through the eyes of a spectator. The clash of swords, the splashing of heels running through mud, a scream as someone was stabbed over and over again—though it didn’t come from the one being stabbed. Instead, it came from the woman above him, her voice thick with emotions Byleth couldn’t discern.

They’d had dreams before. It didn’t happen often—not that Byleth ever minded—though nothing of  _ this  _ nature. The dream almost felt prophetic, but there was no reason to think it was anything out of the ordinary other than the strange feeling that blossomed in their stomach.

A knock at the door startled Byleth for the second time that morning. Even so, they already knew who was on the other side of the door without even opening it.

_ It’s just Jeralt. _

Byleth took a deep breath and sat up from the cot, legs swinging over the side in anticipation to get up. But before Byleth could say anything, the door opened and Byleth’s father let himself in; an uncommon occurrence. 

“I was hoping you were awake. Sorry for not giving you a chance to answer. We’re a little later than I’d like to be, but I thought I’d give you the chance to sleep in for once. I know that—hey,” Jeralt interrupted himself, his eyes falling on Byleth, “you’re looking a little rough. Something happen?”

Byleth instinctively shook their head, then thought better of it. Maybe Jeralt knew something about this? “I had that dream again.” 

It came out quiet, a little quieter than they’d intended, but that was to be expected from such infrequent use. Byleth always thought it was a waste of energy to talk when actions often spoke louder than words. And in the life of a mercenary, dialogue was a privilege. It would be better to use that energy fighting rather than talking. 

Still, Byleth could tell that their silence worried Jeralt. He wouldn’t try to get Byleth to speak up so often otherwise. So Byleth did their best to comply, even if it was difficult finding the correct words in the first place. Speaking in short sentences was their compromise. 

“The one with the war?” Jeralt asked, placing a hand under his chin. “I still don’t know what that one could mean. I’ve been in a lot of battles and heard many stories, but that’s a unique story even to me. Don’t have a clue where it might’ve came from. Maybe it’s just something of your imagination?”

Byleth shrugged and rose from the bed, reaching for the sword that was resting against the wall.

“Straight to the point then, huh?” Jeralt remarked, his arms crossed. As Byleth started putting on the rest of their gear, Jeralt glanced out the window to his right. He immediately tensed up. 

“Shit, they’re already here. Guess I’d better start getting ready too.”

At that moment, one of the mercenaries from the village burst into the room, looking a little panicked. He gasped for air before he started, “Jeralt, sir! Apologies for barging in, but your presence is needed!”

“Woah, calm down. What’s happened?” In spite of what he was saying, Byleth noticed that Jeralt already had a hand on the hilt of his sword. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like he was just resting it: his voice was calm and steady, his brows knitted together, but knowing Jeralt, Byleth could tell through his subtle expression that he was already diving into the mindset of a mercenary before he could even be told what happened.

“There are some students from Garreg Mach Monastery outside—they’re being attacked by bandits and need aid!”

Byleth noticed the slight clench in Jeralt’s fingers around the blade at his hip. They wondered for a moment if Jeralt knew these students, or perhaps even Garreg Mach Monastery itself—whatever it may be—but the thought was quickly dashed out of their mind as they remembered the more important aspect here: there were civilians in danger. 

Used to these impromptu rendezvous, Byleth was already heading towards the door. Traveling across Fódlan meant that missions beget more missions, and bandits didn’t care how many objectives you balanced on your plate or how little time you had. 

The mercenary was following behind them, still explaining the situation between hurried breaths. “The bandits surprised them in the night, coming from the west. Seeing as they’re students from the Knight’s Academy, they should’ve been able to handle the skirmish themselves, but they’re too inexperienced and became overwhelmed. Three of them have met with us to request our help.”

_ So they were inexperienced. _ Byleth exhaled deeply through their nose. It seemed like the worst fights were with the inexperienced ones. Mercenaries that were too confident in their little skill, soldiers who’d never been in battle before, and perhaps the worst, squires that bit off a little more than they could chew. Those usually had the most casualties.

All it meant was that Byleth would have to work a little harder to make sure people weren’t gravely hurt. They hoped that they weren’t too far off from the thick of it.

As the mercenary had explained, three students were at the door, not unscathed from their journey.

“Please forgive the intrusion. We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire.”

The young man who spoke lowered his head in apology. He was the most injured of the three, Byleth noticed, blood starting to stain his dark clothes. His armor was broken around his abdomen, but the only wound on his skin was a dark scar. He must’ve been healed before arriving. 

“We’re being pursued by a group of bandits,” he continued. “I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend us your support.”

As the man raised his head again, Byleth noticed a certain look in his eyes, an energy they couldn’t quite describe. It was unsettling to say the least, but Byleth had never been a very moveable person. All they did instead was make note of it before turning their attention to the other two standing at the man’s side.

They bore the same uniform as the first, though with some differences—namely the cape draped over their left shoulders. The one on the right, cloaked in red, spoke first. “It’s true. They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp.”

This one also had a strange aura about her. Byleth couldn’t pick up anything particularly off-putting about her, but they did notice that there wasn’t a spot of blood on her body. Of course, there were a number of reasons why that could be so, but the strange feeling Byleth had this morning returned.

The one dressed in gold placed a hand on his hip, shaking his head. “We’ve been separated from our companions,  _ and _ we’re outnumbered. They’re out for our lives… not to mention our gold.”

_ A strange emphasis, to place gold over lives _ , Byleth thought. Was there a significant amount of gold shared between the three that the bandits were after? They couldn’t imagine that a couple of students as young as them were any richer than they and Jeralt were.

“I’m impressed you’re staying so calm considering the situation”, Jeralt said, mirroring Byleth’s thoughts. “I—”

“Bandits spotted just outside the village!” A mercenary rushed to their side, heaving from his sprint. “Damn, there are a lot of them…”

“Lovely. I’m guessing they followed you here, then.” Jeralt looked over his shoulder at Byleth. “Can’t leave this village now, huh?”

Byleth was already walking in the direction the mercenary came from, drawing their sword as a precaution. They didn’t wait for Jeralt, knowing that he’d likely gone to untie his horse and would meet up with him soon. The best thing Byleth could do was go ahead and deal with bandits in the meantime. 

The students led the group into a deeper part of the forest. Ahead, Byleth saw three bandits standing at the crest of a hill, a guide tower just behind them. If these students were outnumbered, then where were the rest of them?

Byleth took the first step out into the open, deliberately out of reach from the bandits. They gripped their sword tighter and slipped back into the familiar mindset that surfaced in the heat of battle. A cold, detached air blew over them, a passionate focus on battle being the only thought at the forefront of their mind. They scanned what was now the battlefield, quickly strategizing the best route, best method, best path to victory, even if it meant more blood would be spilled. Battle, of course, was not the place to get hung up over the values of life.

Perhaps it started out as a coping mechanism. But for what, Byleth was unsure.

The student from before, draped in blue, fell into step beside him. “Thank you. We are in your debt. It wouldn’t do for us to fall in a place like this.”

Byleth only nodded, their lips pressed in a thin line. A lance user… most of the mercenaries they’d fought with wielded swords, but Byleth wasn’t completely inexperienced with their usage. Short ranged unless they had a javelin, higher speeds… Likely useful to clean up already damaged foes. Being a student and all, he shouldn’t have the strength to fight alone. He’d be best suited to sticking with another ally.

Seeming to notice Byleth’s lack of response, the man turned back towards the bandits, readying his weapon. Byleth stuck their hand out in front of them as a “wait”, thought for a moment, then pointed to the man in gold. Since he was an archer, the man in blue would complement him nicely.

The man in gold, responding to Byleth’s gesture as if he’d been spoken to, took his place behind Byleth. "I didn't expect to run into mercenaries like you in some remote village. The gods of fortune must be smiling on me!"

It  _ was _ lucky that they’d run into mercenaries, considering their lack of location stability, but there wasn’t time to think about that now, let alone profess premature gratitude for a situation that had yet to be solved. Why did they all talk so much?

And almost like an answer to their question, the final student, the young woman in red approached Byleth from the left. “You have a strange aura about you...” 

Byleth was almost startled from his state of mind. What she said was eerily identical to what they’d thought about her only minutes ago.

“...You say you're a mercenary, so show me what you can do."

Taking a second to regain themselves, Byleth nodded and gripped their sword tighter. They couldn’t let themself slip, not this early into battle. They didn’t know how strong these bandits were. Not yet, anyway.

Byleth noticed the axe at the woman’s side. A front-liner, then. They pointed towards the front, in the direction of the woods to the left. Byleth saw a few bandits head into the brush there, but they hoped the woman had a higher level of defense than the archer and the lance user. 

The woman looked at Byleth’s outstretched hand, her face screwing up in an expression Byleth couldn’t name, but regardless, she turned rather sharply and moved to the suggested location. Byleth didn’t have enough time to delve into why she might’ve acted that way.

Like clockwork, the bandits took their time to move. None of them got close enough to attack, but they were definitely close enough for Byleth’s party to attack them.  _ Fools _ , Byleth thought, feeling a smirk tug at the corner of their lips. 

Once they all moved, Byleth took the initiative. They sprung forward, keeping their body low as they attacked from overhead. The motion was quick, smooth, utterly habitual. They’d gone through these moves for longer than they could remember. Recalling them was easy, it was the unpredictability of man that was Byleth’s weak point. 

Fortunately enough, the bandit was slower than Byleth anticipated, unable to move aside in time. Byleth’s blade cut through from his shoulder to his abdomen, weakening his dominant arm in one breath.  _ That should soften his blows _ . 

Simultaneously, Byleth heard similar yelps of pain from the direction of the students. Though, they weren’t entirely sure if they could pick out the students’ cries from the bandits’. Screams all sounded the same at some point. 

But they couldn’t let themselves get distracted. As Byleth was looking in the direction of the voices, they saw their opponent in their peripheral. Even if they were paying full attention, there was no way to stop the attack from connecting with Byleth—the axe cut into his flesh, Byleth’s shoulder flaring first with heat, then with unmistakable pain.  _ An eye for an eye _ , Byleth supposed as they countered, fury beginning to boil within their veins. 

The bandit didn’t expect for Byleth to recover so quickly, as evidenced by the sheer panic on his face as Byleth drew their arm back. He mumbled something so quietly that Byleth didn’t register that anything was said at all until after they brought their blade forward. The sword stabbed directly into the bandit’s chest at full force. 

They pulled out the blade, looking down at the man who was now on the ground, clutching at his chest. He began gasping for air, his eyes glazed over as he stared at something that wasn’t there. Byleth watched until the life drained from the man’s face. Blood pooled around him and stained the ground red. With the heat of the moment over, they recalled what the bandit said only moments ago.

_ “Didn’t even flinch…” _

People talk too much.

Byleth’s arm, dulled for a moment from the adrenaline of battle, began to flare in pain again. If they had a moment, they would’ve taken the time to bandage it, make sure the wound wouldn’t open itself further from the movement. But shortly after they watched the bandit take his final breath, Byleth heard one of the students cry out for help. 

“Edelgard!” the one in blue yelled, surging forward to the woman’s side. He took an anticipatory step before leaping into the air. The man twisted his body midair and brought his lance down  _ incredibly _ hard on the bandit nearest whom Byleth assumed was Edelgard, the woman in red. 

The attack was enough to kill the bandit in one blow, a strength that Byleth could admire. The man in blue, however, didn’t look so pleased. Instead, he turned his attention back to Edelgard, who was still picking herself up off the ground. 

“Are you okay? I saw you get hit, I—”

“Just fine,” she replied, her voice harsh. “I could’ve taken care of it myself.”

“My apologies, I was just—”

“Worried? You’d have better used your time worrying about yourself. I can fight my own battles, thank you very much.”

The man in blue fell silent, frowning slightly. He only nodded in response, turning back to where the man in gold was, a few feet in the opposite direction. 

Before Byleth could get back into the fray, an arrow flew mere inches from their face, grazing the tip of their nose. They took a few steps back, looking first towards the archer himself, then the arrow’s target.

The man in gold, raising up two fingers in a mock salute, only smiled at Byleth when they turned to him. Back in the opposite direction, the leader of the bandits fell onto his back, a single arrow sticking from his chest. An impressive shot from that distance. 

But the bandit was far from incapicated. He sprung back onto his feet, and driven with anger, he screamed as he took his axe and ran straight towards the nearest student—Edelgard. 

The scream gave her just enough time to react, but only enough time to pull out a small dagger attached to her hip. It wouldn’t be enough.

Byleth’s legs started moving on their own. They didn’t understand; they didn’t usually do this. They didn’t save other people at their expense. What was pushing them to this time?

“Die!”

It was over in a matter of seconds. Byleth pushed Edelgard out of the way and instantly felt the pain of the axe at their back. But something was different. It was lasting way longer than it should. The air around them was still. They opened their eyes and were met with darkness. 

Was this death?

“Oh, how I wish it were!”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow/message me on Twitter @phoenx! Please leave a comment, no matter how small! I read them all, and they all make my day <3


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